


Run With Me

by OpalPenWriter



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU setting, Bootlegger Jean, Country setting, M/M, Mild Language!, Moonshine, Moonshine runner, Not sure what else to tag?, Sheriff Bott, The F-bomb is used!, small car chase scene, small town setting, with some other colorful words!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 05:16:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1970364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpalPenWriter/pseuds/OpalPenWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean finds himself with the best husband he could ask for, a well paying job and a lucrative business that he deals with in the darkness of the night. He muses over his life one night as he's taking the ride over state line to make a delivery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Run With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Its been a while! I am back though! And this is the first fic I thought I would throw out there! Its not much, and I tried a different style of writing and attempted to write a bit of action sense that is not my preference! So any critic is welcomed as it will help me improve! I churned this out pretty fast so if you seen anything wrong, let me know! Otherwise, enjoy!

The county that Jean Kirstein lives in is relatively large. The population has been dwindling ever since the 40's, but the amount of land inside MariaCopa County is nothing but rolling acres of farm or forest. Its a perfect niche for Jean’s current occupation and lifestyle.

Small towns are scattered around the area, far enough apart to be a journey, but close enough to where if you weren’t known inside of MariaCopa it was because you were a stranger.

It was nothing like the city that Jean had grown up in. Fast paced cars and the loud, overbearing hum of the nightlife was something he had grown accustomed to. The bustling and ever growing city was on the completely other side of the spectrum compared to the county and the small country town he had found himself in.

He remembers vividly why he left in the first place. The large city, even with all its wonders, had harbored far too much crime for Jean’s liking. So, in the middle of a hot July weekend, he packed his things and set out to place he remembers one of his co-workers had talked about.

It had been a significant change of pace and the wide open ranges attracted Jean as to where the large cityscape and polluted air had begun to push the man away. Looking back now, Jean could begin to actually formulate reason after reason as to why MariaCopa seemed so inviting to him. The list was endless, but his husband topped that list.

Jean was extremely happy that he had settled in MariaCopa. It was nothing if not a dream.

When he had first moved to the county, he had obtained a job at an accounting firm. It was a small, and easy enough for Jean to do since he had worked in a much larger firm in the city. It was almost laughable the small amount of money that went through the firm. Larger sums went through his old workplace in a day than it did in a year in the county.

His job allowed him to meet almost everyone in the town and in the county. They were nice people and then there were people with nice facades. Jean’s job allowed him to meet them all and know them on a more personal level than most other occupations. People tend to open up more with the one dealing with their money for some odd reason.

Jean reasoned that he owed that firm more than just his work hours. Without having that occupation, Jean was sure he never would have had the life he has now. One full of love, devotion and surprises.

Jean’s job was how he met Marco. The brunette had walked in the second day Jean was on the job and walked straight up to his desk, bypassing those who had been waiting. Jean had been ready to give the idiot a piece of his mind when Marco opened his mouth and told Jean that he was the most beautiful accountant he’s ever seen. Jean had never sputtered over his own words before that day.

His occupation was also the reason he was launched into his second career in Maricopa. Never would Jean had ever of guessed he would be swooped into any kind of illegal activity inside such a seemingly quiet and close knit community. It happened, though, and Jean wouldn’t change it for the world.

Running Moonshine was not necessarily the safest career but it was in fact a very lucrative career and rewarding for people like Jean. Having come to the county, he had stumbled into the business by shear luck.

All kinds of people walk into the accounting firm and Jean knows them all on some kind of personal level. It is not necessarily a surprise that he ran into some less truthful and honest men.

The mousy haired man had begun running moonshine only a few months after he moved MariaCopa. Only later in life, shortly after his marriage to Marco, did Jean begin to head some of the operations himself.

And for all of his running, Jean would like to think that he is the fastest man in the state, much less the county. Ever since he started running by himself, he has not been caught. Regardless of the type, state trooper or county police, Jean had a natural gift of driving and evading.

Sometimes its all just too easy. Running across highways at night and delivering the ever wanted product while continuing on during the daylight hours as Mr. Kirstein and the husband of Marco Bodt. He supposed that in this county, it was hard for people to even begin to believe that the husband of Sheriff Bodt was entangled in the dark and dirty underbelly of some undesirable logistics.

The man that stole the gentle Marco Bodt’s heart would never be the kind of man that would dare put himself or Marco in danger. Jean was far too upstanding and nice and he would simply be stupid if he ever thought of doing anything illegal with a cop husband.

And a sheriff no less! just think of the scandal of it all!

Sometimes he found it ironic how accepting the small community was of himself and Marco, yet the simple mention of moonshine sent the little old ladies at the hairdresser's into a tizzy.

If Jean was a more moral man, he might have a problem with doing what he does on a daily basis. However, he is not and the money and thrill of the chase only add to the need of wanting to drive.

Running Moonshine actually gives him a sense of completion, oddly enough.

If he thinks about it hard enough, its not the moonshine or the paycheck that eggs him on and on until he’s sitting on the edge of danger and flying down the highway at speeds that could never be legal.

Its the thrill of breaking the law. Its the thrill of toying with death. Its just the thrill of it all. It gives him a high like no other and Jean was hooked the minute he took his first ride with Cliff, one of men that he leads now.

He never understood adrenaline junkies until he started working with the distillers of MariaCopa. He gets it now on a complete new level. Words couldn’t begin to describe the feeling he gets, that tingles down his spine, when he sees the lights or hears the whine of sirens.

Jean especially loves the thrill of teasing the local department. They are probably the only other people, minus the active producers and runners, that were aware of the operations running in and out of MariaCopa.

They know and its the same almost every night he runs. They’ll give chase he if happens to run across them. Its an endless cycle of pathetic men chasing a big bounty and just trying to get their name in the paper.

They don’t care if they actually do their community good. The tin badge cops just want the fame. They want to be known as the guy who took down a ring of moonshiners. And they will forever chase that dream into their death because Jean has no intention on being caught.

Nobody in the ring has the intention, or lack of skills, of being caught.

Tonight is slightly different than what he is used to. Jean flies down the highway, just fifty miles shy of acrossing the state line and making the drop. He hasn’t seen a hot spot in over thirty miles and that is oddly strange for the county police and troopers. It is that highway they seem to ping the most. A highway that Jean usually avoids if he has a large shipment to carry, but this is the quickest way to get across the State Line and back.

The only signs of life he’s seen are the beady little eyes of bambi scurrying off the side of the road away from the roar of his truck.

He left some time before the sun had crept down just below the horizon and the fact he hasn’t seen hide nor hair of the law makes him a bit uneasy. Its unlike them to think creativity and formulate plans that have any kind of substance to them. Its very unlikely that they’ve come up with some kind of sneak attack, while that would be a practical approach at the very least.

Jean figures that he just missing the touch of his love. Being away from Marco makes him a bit unsettled at points. It makes him worry and shift over thoughts that are more than likely not feasible. Yet he couldn’t stop himself from yearning to return to his husband.

Jean is not sure what he would do without Marco. They have a chemistry that people rarely ever find. Their love is something so strong and powerful that it blows Jean away on some occasions. Marco looks at Jean with such intensity sometimes as they shower together, getting ready for the day ahead of them.

Or, when they share dinner together on the rare occasions that they are home together at night, they share glances of complete and utter devotion and love. The way Marco can flash his eyes at Jean and just make him melt has Jean breathless at times.

The words that pass between them always set Jean on fire with passion and warmth. Their relationship was special. An blend of lust and love that is difficult to find.

Brown eyes shift to the left as he catches movement, pulling him out of his thoughts. His foot presses down on the gas pedal instinctively but to his slight relief and disappointment, its only another deer that wandered too close to the highway. He keeps on trucking forward, and returns back to his thoughts.

He always toys with the idea of being caught. Tosses the idea around in his head about what it would be like to only be able to see his husband through cold iron bars. It only gives him extra motivation whenever he is rolling down the highway with a blue light parade behind him in the darkness of midnight.

The thought alone of being separated from Marco permanently makes his stomach churn, and for most people, it would be the reason for quitting the moonshine game while they were ahead. Not for Jean though. It is the idea and image of Marco that makes his want to run moonshine even more.

It makes him want to run it faster.

The mousy haired man remembers a time when he drove far more recklessly than he does now. He life mattered not, but the shine did. That was back before himself and the brunette had tied the knot officially in the small town they lived in.

Jean would go out on runs, assuming that he would not return. It didn’t matter as long as the product was either delivered or otherwise disposed of if Jean was to ever get caught. It was nothing for the man to run across parked police cars doing no less than forty over the legal speed limit. It was nothing for Jean to side swipe squad cars in an attempt to disable the pursuit permanently.

It changed, just like life does, when Marco became a permanent figure in Jean’s life. He drove like his life depended on it because it did. It was no longer just about the shine. It was about returning to Marco. While his foot is still always down to the floorboard, Jean finds that he drives with more finesse now.

Sharp eyes catch another disturbance among the darkness while he is lost in his thoughts once again. He flys by an exit that leads to a no name town when he see the reflection. Its dark out and there are no guiding lights on the highway, but he still sees it.

Bright lights streaming from his truck reflect the big bold lettering on the side of the vehicle that is sitting just underneath the bridge that the exit ramp leads to.

_MariaCopa County Sheriff #34_

It is one of the newer cars the department obtain this year, a Mustang GTO if he was to guess by the shape of the front end, so Jean assumes that it will have more kick than the old raggedy things they usually drive around. It affects him none. His truck has never failed to get him out of jam.

Jean hardly reacts as the blue lights flick on, shattering the darkness around them. He knows this particular one. He remembers the car number all too well. 34 was a cocky son of a bitch that attempted to maneuver and drive like Jean did. He was the only man in the department willing to do a bit of dangerous driving just to keep up with Jean.

Needless to say, 34 has never caught him before and if Jean has his way, he never will. Jean has far too much to lose if he gets caught. 34 has nothing but pride to break if he can’t catch Jean.

Jean and 34 have had their times together, though. 34 runs the roads here more than any other officer and Jean suspects, during the day, he attempts to pin cars that he thinks Jean might be in. Its so laughable that its sorta sad to think about. The desperation for the Force to catch one single man that does no harm to anybody.

Jean was simply a businessman. Apparently thats a crime when you don’t work in set guide lines of even greedier men. He doesn’t worry about that now. That is a debate and discussion that is best held for another time. The chase is on, and even though his truck is large and jacked up in height, it runs like predator on the paved roadway.

It doesn’t take long before the blue lights are catching up. What was just a glimpse over the hill behind him is now an annoying array of lights in his rearview mirror, violently flashing and almost blinding him.

Jean looks down at his Police Scanner expectantly, waiting for the radio to hum to life with activity. He waits for the cop behind him to call in the chase, but he doesn’t. Jean’s lips curl upward into a knowing and devious smirk.

“Oh, cocky son of a bitch, huh?. Alright. We’ll play.” Jean smirks and decides to kick it into high gear. Ol’ John Law stayed with him, not moving an inch backwards even as Jean floored it even farther past the speed limit. He stayed with Jean and moved with him as if the same person was driving both vehicles.

“This is new.” The mousy haired man mused as he kept a firm hand on the steering wheel. He was always the one up to play games, but usually he could lose most, if not all, the force with a simple single kick of the ass to his truck. That was of course, before the force apparently received nifty little upgrades to their own patrol.

Jean got the sudden realization that it might not be so simple to lose 34 tonight. It would be interesting, but Jean was not entirely worried. If State Patrols couldn’t catch him, he was sure even a new car with a dusty old driver from the county could not either.

The GTO stayed on him, not moving backwards nor forwards. There were no attempts to slid up into his blind spot or to nudge him with an attempted pit maneuver (as if they could.) Anyone without half a brain would assume the two vehicles were caravanning together.

Or racing. Whichever a bystander preferred.

Jean was sure that if there was not duct tape across his back plate, 34 could clearly see the numbers even in such shitty lighting.

It was beginning to be annoying. 34 was not giving chase as much as following Jean down the road as dangerous speeds. Jean could almost feel the taunt emitting from behind him.

He couldn’t even begin to deliver his shipment with the rat on his tail. He’d have to abort, waste time and money, both of which he didn’t have to spare at the given moment.

And then deal with the fact of still needing to lose the law and hide at the same time. Jean was not one to quiet so easily though.

No, Jean was not a quitter. He was not going to let 34 ruin his night now, of all nights. He was not going to let the fucker kill his business. 34 was just going to give Jean more thrill to feed off of, even if the cop didn’t know it yet.

Jean was ready to take the man behind him on a ride. He just was not so sure if 34 was ready or not. He’s been chased down straight highways until Jean was walking off and disappearing over the horizon. He’s never actually toyed with this particular cop, and he figured if he was going to do it, tonight was as good as any.

He shifted into the right lane as fast as he could, slamming the heel of his foot against the brakes. The sound was almost painful, and Jean didn’t want to begin to think about the strain he was putting on his baby nor the shipment, but it was simply priceless to watch 34 scramble as he zoomed by in the left lane, obviously trying to stop and turn his car around.  
Jean can hear the rattling of the jars in the bed of his truck but is satisfied and sure that none have cracked or shattered. He’s driven his baby harder and come out with a clean supply.

The brake lights ahead of him dim and the car in front of him is nearly squealing tires just to turn around and not let Jean slip away from him.

Jean was ahead of him far before 34 could change gears, turning his steering wheel sharply and cutting across the grassy medium to the other two lanes of road that headed in the direction he came from. If he could get back to the exit where the the two had crossed paths and get on the back roads, Jean could hide long enough for the heat to cool down and scurry his way back to the highway using some lesser known paths.

It felt to good to pull one over on a man of law and Jean couldn’t help the snicker that escaped from his lips. He felt his heart racing through his chest and the adrenaline jumping through his veins. He could almost taste his own smugness as he flew down the highway.

A quick glance in the rear view mirror had his smirk dying a small death. It had only taken the squad car literal seconds to cross the medium, tearing up even more in its wake. He could hear, over the roar of his own engine, the car being kicked into as 34 attempted to catch up.

“Well, fuck me sideways if you don’t know how to stay with me, buddy.” Jean chuckled, smirk returning to his lips. “A little late, but I still give you kudos.” he spoke, as if the officer could actually hear him. Jean was tempted to get on his radio and let the little fuck know that he was thoroughly impressed.

He’s taking the off ramp for the exit when he finally hears 34 call it in. The radio instantly becomes a hub of constant and frantic communication between officers. They call out numbers and locations, but its already too late and the delay for back up has already cost 34 the catch.

Jean is jetting down the dark roads before the GTO can even come to the stop sign.

The mousy haired outlaw knows the roads like the back of his hand. He spends his off days just driving around, learning shortcuts and dead ends for moments like theses. He knows exactly where this road will take him and knows that there are several farms scattered across the land from here to the next town over.

He flicks his lights off in a hurry, not wanting to catch the attention of the cop he just lost. It is moments like this that Jean sighs a sigh of relief that he doesn’t have running lights on his truck.

Its dark, no moon out to guide him but he knows. It is all too natural for him. He knows that half a mile down in the dark and quiet of the night, he can take a right turn onto a dirt road and curvy road. It used to be occupied by an old farmer, but the man had died a few years back and his sons had left it to sit and rot. It might have been the location of a few of Jean’s first operations, but even Jean himself had since left it. Now he wanted to bless the little dirt road as he came to a stop, placing his truck in park and taking his foot off the brakes to kill those lights as well. All was quiet except the rubble of his truck mingling with the late night crickets hiding in the thickets just to his right.

He waited, like a predator waiting for prey. He held his breath only slightly, the thrill and adrenaline running through him and giving him such a high that no drug could mirror.

They pass in a cluster and his radio lights up. Five of them with lights bright as the sunshine roll together as they ran down the old and decrepit road and right past the almost forgettable dirt road that Jean was situated on. Jean laughed out loud for the first time that night. They thought he was heading to the county over and while it's true that the road would lead that way and he had business over there, it could only be far from the truth of the given moment.

He waits, knowing to count backwards slowly in his head like he has been taught and to listen carefully for any signs of change from the radio. They seem to be dead set on him moving Westward and Jean is okay with that.

All is quiet on the Western Front when Jean flips his lights back on and moseys up the dirt road and crawls back onto the pavement. The highway should be clear and Jean has a job to do.

He slides back onto the highway with ease and realizes that it took an hour out of his time to take that detour. He needs to hurry. Jean is never late. The highway is a smooth ride and Jean finds himself relaxing. They will follow that road for another thirty minutes or so. Claim they lost sight of him before scrambling back to the highway in a vain attempt to find any trace of him.

He’s never found a more idiotic bunch that the cops around this area. Cocky young boys and men who used their pride to drive them instead of their head. They haven’t been a challenge to him since he began riding on his own. Its for his own amusement does he humor their chases every now and then.

With a guaranteed easy ride ahead of him, Jean relaxes his shoulders and even turns his truck radio on, filling the cab with a bit of hard rock that he listens to almost religiously. All and all, its been a good night and Jean is satisfied with himself for pulling the wool over the eyes of the law once again.

It doesn’t take long before Jean understand that the handful of cops on the back roads had not been the last of his worries. It could almost pass for a trap that Jean had just drove into.

He sees the car but it doesn't’ register in his mind. Its sitting on the grassy medium in the complete darkness in front of him. barely a shape in the shadows, the blue lights come on just as Jean is in view.

They have always had a game of cat and mouse between them, but Jean has never had to lose 34 twice in one night. This is different from usual.

“Determined tonight.” Jean nearly cooed. Instead of being off put by this revelation, he is nearly bouncing in his seat from excitement. He expects to zoom past the car before 34 will give chase again.

Yet it happens so fast and Jean would claim it sheer luck that a crash didn’t occur.

The cruiser lights up as the engine roars to life. The wheels turn sharp and the car is sprawled across the two lanes of traffic before Jean can blink. He slams the brakes, wincing as he hears his tires squeal under the immense task of stopping for the second time that night.

The jars in the back clink together and the man is not so sure he got lucky enough this time for some of them not to break.

He subconsciously turns his wheel and when his truck comes to a stop, he is almost sitting parallel with the cruiser. Options run through his head at a too fast rate and he can’t grasp onto one. He’s never thought a plan through if he ever did get caught.

His chest is heaving with the sudden turn of events and while there is a six gun revolver sitting inside his glove-box, his instinct is to reach downward to shift gears in reverse.

The cruiser door is flying open and with Jean’s bright lights still on, its clear that 34 is holding a gun in his hand and its pointing straight at Jean. The gig is up and it comes crashing down hard on Jean. He’s shaking, but for all the wrong reasons this time.

Jean, in his entire life and career as a Moonshiner, had never been caught. It was a sour taste in his mouth. A bitter feeling in his veins to know that someone had outsmarted him. Someone had thought ahead of him and Jean hated it.

“Turn the vehicle off and put your hands up in the air where I can see them.” The cop snaps out as he walks around the front end of his car, barely three feet away from brush guard on Jean’s truck.

“Put them up!!” he snaps out again, an iciness to his voice when Jean reacts two seconds too late.

Turning the key and listening to his truck die, Jean slides his hands up for the man to see. He’s kinda cute as he moves closer. Dark brown hair that Jean could run his fingers through and tug at. A tall man with a lithe build and legs that Jean could die for.

As he comes closer, Jean can see a beautiful face, dotted with adorable freckles that he could kiss over and over again.

That he has kissed over and over again.

“I told you.” Marco smirked, lips curling upward in an almost Cheshire fashion as he continued to point his gun at Jean. Jean would bet money that the safety is not even on. “You got cocky, Jean. You’re gonna get caught one day because you get cocky. This could have been anyone else. Be glad it was me.” The brunette chuckled, a bit of sarcasm laced in his words as he finally holstered his gun and leaned against the door frame.

They both knew they didn’t have long. “What can I say? The Sheriff is one stubborn son of a bitch.” Jean replied, quirking one eyebrow as he lowered his hands. “And got a new car without telling anybody.”

“Yeah. And my moonshine runner is a naive son of a bitch who almost got caught tonight. You’re never this careless. I can almost guess where you went from the exit.. Where did you hide this time? Near that old farm?”

Jean sometimes detested how well Marco actually knew him. He supposed it came with the territory of being together.

“This is the first time you’ve ever caught me.” Jean replied, ignoring Marco’s question. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Its because you relaxed. You let your guard down because you thought you were home free and you were not and that's how we get caught, Jean.” Marco almost snarled out, scolding his driver and husband. “I’m not the only one who has these cars now, doll. This is me teaching you a lesson. You’ve come so close many times to being caught and locked up. So-o-o-o close to having the whole business shut down because of your recklessness.”

They sat in silence for a few moments after. The crickets chirped idly in the darkness of the countryside as the two stared at each other. Marco was done scolding and it was meant in the best way possible. The brunette got angry and bitched and nagged but he loved Jean. Jean was just a stubborn idiot sometimes.

Marco leaned in first, forgetting he was using the step to be level with the window and almost losing his balance. He swallowed Jean’s chuckle with a heated kiss. Teeth and tongues pressed together in a display of both power and lust. Jean nipped Marco’s bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth and sucking lightly as the Sheriff pulled away. Equal smug expressions were passed among them.

“Be careful. Get the shipment down there and be back before breakfast or I will ban you from the bedroom.” Marco threatened as he moved off the step. His head was barely visible to Jean now. “Go on, Jean. I’ll give you ten minutes before I call you in.” The brunette smirked as he walked back to his car.

“You wouldn’t!”

“Five minutes”

Marco would.

Marco Did.

It was only when Jean arrived at his drop off point did he realize he was one jar short.


End file.
